


In My Head

by unironic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First years as third years, M/M, Onesided Tsukkiyama, mentions of yamayachi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 09:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11415507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unironic/pseuds/unironic
Summary: Tsukishima, at Yamaguchi's request, is helping him get ready for his first date with Yachi when his mind wonders.





	In My Head

"Do you think this shirt is okay?"

Tsukishima pulls his gaze away from the glow of his phone screen, looking across the small bedroom towards Yamaguchi. He puts his phone down away from his face a bit, so it's resting in his hand between his crossed legs. He shifts a bit, pushing himself up so he's leaning in a more posture-friendly way against the wall. His pale brown-eyed gaze moves from Yamaguchi towards the shirt hanging on the bright pink hanger that he's holding in his hand. It's nothing too special, simple, just an ordinary white t-shirt. Yamaguchi the turns around looking through his closet, he finds a dark jean jacket in the midst of school uniforms, and other clothing items. 

"With this over it?" He tacks on shortly afterward.

Tsukishima looks at the clothing items for a moment, then back up to Yamaguchi. He's clearly nervous. His gaze flickers from the shirt to him, searching for some kind of reassurance. The reassurance that Tsukishima doesn't quite feel the need to provide, considering it's only a date, and it's just a shirt.

"I don't think the shirt you wear is going to ruin the date," He says looking at Yamaguchi now. Tsukishima is clearly not much help in these types of situations. He's never had a girlfriend or boyfriend, he's never been on a date. He's never really cared for any of the people that have shown interest in him. He has no experience in romance. It was pointless for Yamaguchi to ask him to help in the first place. But he's been there for every other significant event in his life since he was eight, from birthday parties to the loss of his dog when he was ten, he doesn't think that this is much different from all of that. There's a certain comfort that comes from having someone there that you've known all your life, Tsukishima can partly understand that. 

Tsukishima watches as Yamaguchi turns around, looking at the small closet door mirror, holding the jean jacket and white shirt duo up in front of his chest. Tsukishima's gaze is intent, lingering.

He should be happy for Yamaguchi. He finally, after two long years of annoying pinning, asked Yachi out on a date. But he's not. He doesn't like the way it makes his throat feel dry and swollen, or the way whenever he says something about her his words seem to stab him right in the chest to where his breath is lost. It's annoying and pitiful.

Yamaguchi sets the articles of clothing onto the top of the wooden dresser next to him. He reaches down, grasping the edges of his bland t-shirt from whatever event his mom had worked at. He slowly pulls it up, bit by bit relieving his light, freckle dusted back. Tsukishima's gaze unconsciously stays longer than it should. He stiffens where he is seated, his breath hitching in his throat, watching as the shirt pulls up and over his head, exposing the toned muscles of his shoulders. It's amazing what volleyball conditioning can do for a person in terms of physical appearance.

He's seen Yamaguchi undress before, they're on a volleyball team together for god's sake, this isn't a new site. But this time it feels different. His shirt is lifting slower, they're alone, and it's silent. There is no bustle from the team around them, just him and Yamaguchi looking at him throw the reflection of the mirror. It feels like Yamaguchi is moving slow purposely. Tsukishima hates how awkward it is, and how he's grasping at that short, short straw of hope that Yamaguchi is thinking the same thing he is.

With hesitation, he stands. He stands at the edge of the bed, his calves touching the edge of the soft, spongy mattress that they used to share when they had sleepovers when they were younger. He takes a couple steps forward so he's standing a rather short distance behind him. Another step and Yamaguchi's back would be pressed against the front of him, he wouldn't mind that all that much, but Tsukishima stays right where he was.

They share eye contact through the mirror, Yamaguchi looking at him, and Tsukishima is looking at him. They stand there for a short second, which to him feels like an eternity. Yamaguchi turns slowly, and they continue their wordless staring, this time without the barrier of the mirror. That's when Yamaguchi reaches out. He puts his hand on his shoulder at first, and Tsukishima's breath hitches. He moves his hand slowly, tracing his fingers over the warm, pale skin to the base of his hairline, twirling the thick, blonde curls at the nape of his neck. His fingers are soft, inviting, and strong all at the same time. He's looking up at Tsukishima, his brown eyes gleaming as they silently exchange a single thought. Yamaguchi leans up slowly, Tsukishima matching this by leaning down. By now the tips of their noses are touching, lips ghosting over on another. The room quite, bit it feels busy. His heart is beating quickly, his stomach is twisting uncomfortably. He's waited for this exact moment for so long, it feels surreal. Perhaps it actually was. 

"Tsukki? Tsukishima? Kei? You there?" Yamaguchi is standing in front of him waving his hand in front of his face. Tsukishima blinks, eyes wide. He clears his throat.

"Ah yeah, yeah," Tsukishima says, shaking his head a bit. "The shirt looks good."


End file.
